Seek, Find, Keep
by aspiringtoeloquence
Summary: Blaine is a fantastic seeker. So is Kurt, and they've both found what they've been looking for in each other. But as a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, can they make it? And will they ever feel able to tell the world? Glee characters in the HP verse.
1. Chapter 1

_[A/N: This originally started as a drabble prompted by a piece of Quidditch!Klaine art by Laertena, on tumblr, depicting the Warblers in their rightful place as the Gryffindor Team. It then rapidly spiraled into a series depicting Kurt/Blaine's relationship in the context of my version of the Hogwarts universe. Only incidental characters from the HP universe will appear - this is Klaine in that 'verse, not a "crossover" per se. This does not adhere to the books, as I'm sure you have gathered._

_The beautiful artwork (as well as the original posts of the chapters) can be found linked on the masterlist on my tumblr, which is also linked here, in my profile._

_I hope you enjoy.]_

* * *

><p>"Right," Wes said, rubbing his hands together in a manner that could only be described as gleeful. "We have the big match on Saturday, so it's time for all of us to focus. Focus - do you hear me Jeff?"<p>

"Why are you picking on me?" the beater asked. "Nick is the one who is -"

"Stop squabbling," Wes commanded. "I need everyone to be their best." He began pacing frantically. "Now, I know some of us are busier than normal this year, but I'm stepping up the practices, starting today. Three hours in the morning, three at night -"

"Wes, that's insane," someone objected.

"Dude, you can't do that," someone else added.

"We do have lives, you know," a third person reminded him.

Wes just glared at them for a minute.

"Well I am sorry," he said, not without a certain amount of sass, "if your busy social lives are interrupted by my valuing the honor of our house. Excuse me if I care about us winning. Excuse me if I presume that my teammates are willing to sacrifice a little of their time to make sure that Gryffindor triumphs on Saturday, and that idiot -"

"Wes," David said reasonably, leaning back against the wall of the locker room, "you know that's not what we're saying."

"You know we care," Nick added, hitting Jeff over the head with his bat as he tried to steal one of the chips he was eating.

"It's not about that," Trent affirmed, twisting his gloves in his hand. "But six hours a day? That's_ a lot _of time."

Wes looked around, then thought for a minute. "Blaine, you're quiet."

The dark haired boy looked up from his parchment and blushed. "Sorry, what?"

The group collectively rolled their eyes. "Another love note, Anderson?" Wes asked. "Really?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he hedged, shoving the parchment into his pocket.

Wes rolled his eyes. "Of course you don't. I'm sure what you were doing was plotting strategy, and not at all reading the fifth owl-delivered note in the last hour from the new - Jeff, Nick, what on earth are you doing?"

The two paused mid whispered conversation. "Nothing," Nick said.

"Absolutely nothing," Jeff affirmed with what he believed was a disarming grin.

Wes sighed deeply. "Go shower and rest, all of you. I'll see you in the morning. 7am!"

There was a collective groan as people started to file out of the locker room.

"Hey," Wes clapped Blaine on the shoulder as they walked down the corridor, "David, Thad and I are going to watch Lord of the Rings tonight. You in?"

He hesitated. "Actually, I can't… I have… I have a thing to meet. I mean, do. I mean… I'm supposed to be -"

Wes tried to stop himself from smiling. "Would this thing happen to be a countertenor from -"

"I should get going," he said. "I don't want to be late."

Wes watched him run off down the hall towards the Gryffindor common room, then smiled and caught up to David and Thad.

He'd decided he liked this new kid. Anyone who made his friend (and the best seeker he'd ever seen) smile like Kurt Hummel did…

Well, he hoped it worked out. It seemed like Blaine wanted this, cared a lot, and it was really good to see… even if he was a little distracted sometimes.

He suddenly frowned. He was all for it, and all, but if Blaine hadn't woken up a little by Saturday he was going to have to take Jeff and Nick aside and ask them to keep an eye on him.

He didn't want Blaine to get a bludger to the head in his lovedrunk haze, after all.

Then they'd _never_ win the house cup.

Oh, yeah. And Blaine would be hurt. That would suck.

_Obviously_.


	2. Chapter one point five

"You know," Kurt said, already changed out of his quidditch robes and back into his own clothes, a mischievous smile on his face as he toyed with the snitch in his hand, "I really don't see why they're all so excited. I mean, yeah, it was a good catch, you're a great seeker, but… I've yet to see you do something really, truly impressive…"

His boyfriend met the smile with one of his own as he turned around and swiftly pinned him to the wall in a kiss filled with promise.

"I caught you, didn't I?"


	3. Chapter 2

"I have practice to get to," Blaine breathed, his head leaning back as he soaked in the sunlight. It was said with such little conviction (and such little intent to actually move) that his companion took as much notice of it as he wanted him to. Which would be none.

Blaine looked down at the blue eyed boy who had his head comfortably resting on his knee and smoothed the hair out of his eyes. "Wes is going to kill me if I'm late again."

The boy smiled sadly. "No, he's going to kill you if he finds out you're with _me_. You're his best seeker - you could show up for practice an hour late, completely naked, with the legs of a goat and he'd just check to make sure you could still ride a broom properly."

Blaine snorted and played idly with a blade of grass. "Naked, huh?"

"With the legs of a _goat_, Blaine."

He smirked. "I do hear that I'm the hottest seeker around."

His companion corrected him - with a raised eyebrow - as he sat up. "_Second_ hottest."

Blaine reached forward to straighten his best friend's dark green and silver tie, which was askew. "Maybe it's too close to call."

"Well, I guess we'll see on Saturday, won't we?" It was a challenge, but there was a sadness behind it, shining in the blue eyes that looked almost grey in the fading sunlight.

"Kurt…" Blaine reached for his hand and Kurt intertwined their fingers immediately.

"Yes?"

"You know I hate it too."

He shrugged. "Hate what?"

He pulled gently on his arm - a reminder. "It's me. You don't have to do that with me, remember? Be you. And…" he took a deep breath. "I hate that we can't do this - be like _this_ anywhere else. I hate that we have to hide, that I have to kiss you in empty classrooms and deserted hallways, in the back of the library instead of at breakfast or when I see you in the corridor between classes. I hate that I can't hold your hand when you sit behind me in Transfiguration. I_ hate_ that I have to lie to my friends when they ask where the marks are from, to my parents when they ask if I've found anyone special. I hate that I have to play against you on Saturday, not because you're so good - which you are -but because my best friends are going to be hoping that you get hurt - not badly, just enough to slow you down. That _kills_ me, Kurt. It kills me that you got sorted into Slytherin when you transferred, it kills me that when I heard that I was briefly disgusted, like it made you someone other than you, someone other than the person I already cared about. I hate that I'm a Gryffindor" - he used his other hand to pull at his maroon and gold tie, picked up his scarf and threw it further away, like it was personally responsible - " and you're a Slytherin, and we're both seekers, and we're both so good at what we do that any of the tolerance that this school is supposed to represent would get thrown out the window if anyone ever saw us together." He took another breath and closed his eyes, breathing in the fresh air. "I hate that every time I kiss you they all spoil it a little because we're so afraid to let them see us together."

Kurt had remained still, just looking at him as he spoke. He swallowed, then leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to Blaine's. "Yeah. That… I hate that." He brought a hand up to touch his cheek. "But I don't hate this. I don't hate us."

He leaned into the touch. "I know. Me either."

There was a long, comfortable pause as their lips met again in a kiss filled with longing, comfort and promises. When they each had pulled back to breathe Blaine squeezed his hand gently. "I really do have to go."

Kurt smiled sadly again. "I know. I'll see you in the morning?"

"At breakfast, yeah."

The unspoken addition was "_across the hall, where I can't touch you, can't look at you without all our friends either laughing or fighting about it_."

"I don't have practice tomorrow afternoon."

"Me either. Wes wants to have a strategy meeting with the chasers."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "He's wasting his time. Our chasers aren't the threat. It's me and Simmons he'll want to concentrate the bludgers on."

Blaine jerked his arm. "Don't say that."

He shrugged. "It's true. You know the seeker's the target. The only reason you haven't been targeted is because Arrcorn's convinced that Wes is going to be playing defensively."

Blaine blinked. "But… you know he isn't."

"Yeah, I do."

"But you…"

"Do you tell Wes anything I tell you about our team?"

"Well, no, I don't, but you're -"

Kurt's volume rose a little. "But I'm a _Slytherin_, right? I'm a Slytherin, so naturally I must run and tell them everything you tell me about your friends. Because I'm out to win, and that's all I want, isn't it?" He snatched his hand away.

"Kurt, that's -"

"I mustn't care about you, or about anyone except myself, and I must be evil, because I'm in Slytherin. It doesn't matter that some of the Slytherins I know - most, in fact - are really good people, or that I do really care about you - so much it hurts to think about sometimes, and it doesn't matter that I would_ kill_ to stand up at breakfast and walk over to the Gryffindor table and kiss you while you're drinking your orange juice - the one without pulp, because you have a ridiculous hatred for actual fruit in your fruit juice - and then turn to Arrcorn and Simmons, and Wes and David, and everyone else who is staring at us and say 'Yes. Yes, I did just kiss the Gryffindor seeker, and yes, I am going to kiss him again in a moment, and if you don't like that then… throw me off the team, kick me out of Slytherin house, whatever. I don't care!' But none of that matters, Blaine, because obviously I'm just here to get information to take back with me, aren't I?" He stood up and there were tears in his eyes. "You know, I really thought you knew me better than that."

Blaine stood up quickly and grabbed him by the hand. "I do! I didn't - I didn't mean it that way. I just… I know the team means a lot to you - quidditch means a lot to you… because of your dad, and - I just… I wasn't thinking. I know you wouldn't, and you know I don't think that about you, or of your house. Not anymore. I just… it means a lot to you."

He brought his eyes to meet Blaine's. "You think it means more to me than you?"

He didn't say anything, and Kurt took a step towards him.

"Blaine, listen to me, okay?" He took a breath. "It doesn't. Nothing means more than this, okay? Nothing."

Blaine bit his lip then smiled. "Me either. I mean, I - it's the same for - I mean -"

Kurt kissed his cheek and sighed. "I know what you mean… and you should go to practice. I'll see you in the morning, and I'll meet you here after class tomorrow." He picked up the Gryffindor scarf and wrapped it around Blaine's neck.

"I wish I could give this to you."

He tucked the end in carefully. "I wish I could wear it."

"I still carry this, you know." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of faded parchment. A scribbled thank you note he'd gotten from the new kid on his first day, after he drew him a map of the route to the great hall from the library.

Kurt reached into his own robes and pulled out his own sheet, folded and worn in the same way. The map. "Me too."

"I really, really don't want to go."

"Bye, Blaine."

He kissed Kurt quickly before he ran off. "Bye"

"Blaine?"

He turned. "Yeah?"

"Broomstick."

"Right."

He walked back over to where his Firebolt was being held out to him with a fond smile and a raised eyebrow.

"I'm going now."

"You do that."

"To practice."

"I know. You should work hard. I hear your competition is pretty great." He smirked again.

"I think so."

They both just smiled for a few seconds and then Blaine ran off again. He looked over his shoulder as he left, watching the sunlight hitting Kurt's hair as he knelt in the grass and picked up his own scarf and the cups they'd been drinking from, as well as the thermos of butterbeer. The trees in the glade framed him, and it looked like magic. To Blaine… it looked like heaven.

With a sigh he reached for the doorknob, looked out to check the corridor was deserted, and stepped out of the Room of Requirement.

He knocked briefly on the door to indicate that his coast had been clear, knowing Kurt would wait a few minutes before leaving, pulled his broomstick closer to him and made his way down to the quidditch pitch, absentmindedly playing with the parchment in his pocket.

When they'd first found the Room of Requirement they hadn't asked for anything specific. Their special place, their very own enchanted glade, had just appeared to them one day as they were trying to find somewhere - anywhere - where they could be themselves. And after they'd found it Blaine had asked Kurt what he'd been thinking, and when Kurt had told him Blaine had been shocked at how closely his best friend's thoughts mirrored his own.

All they'd asked for - each of them - was '_somewhere that we can be together.'_


	4. Chapter 3

The stadium was packed. Blaine could hear them - the crowd - from the dressing rooms, as Wes paced in front of them reminding the team of things they already knew. This was the big one - Slytherin and Gryffindor, the two houses with the most animosity towards each other and, although it wasn't official, everyone knew that this match would, for all practical purposes, decide who got the house cup. The two were evenly matched in points, and whichever house lost that day would have an almost impossible task if they to match the other's lead by the end of the year. This match was _everything_, Wes told the assembled team. It was a chance to prove that Gryffindors were brave, fearless, and above all, better than any damn _Slytherin_. This was for glory, for their house, for Godric Gryffindor, for every student that had ever worn red and gold within these grounds and the thousands that would in years to come. This was _it_. Their moment to _shine_…

Jeff rolled his eyes and Nick informed their fearless leader that he'd been watching too many muggle sports movies. Also, could they go kick some snake-y Slytherin butt, already?

Wes frowned and told the beaters to remember their jobs, and not to hit each other over the head with their clubs.

Blaine had been sitting quietly in the corner during the pre-match talk, brushing off everyone's concern by saying it was just nerves, and when everyone started filing out of the room he snapped back to reality. He had to go play Quidditch. He had to go catch the snitch, just like always. He was good at this. It didn't matter who was on the other team. He knew what he was doing.

Except then he saw the Slytherin team saunter out, led by Arrcorn, their troll of a team captain, and he spied the Slytherin seeker, laughing with the two beaters - Santana was the brunette, he recalled, remembering the gossip he'd heard about her - robes flying and his green scarf making those eyes pop like nothing else Blaine had ever seen. He smiled as he remembered that the scarf also served another purpose - he happened to know that the seeker's flawless pale neck was not entirely free from blemish… a result of their late meeting on the Astronomy tower the night before last. Kurt's eyes flew to his and Blaine saw the corner of those lips lift slightly. He was jolted from the pleasant memory and slightly speculative fantasy of exactly what those lips were capable of by a voice.

"Stop eye-balling the competition, Anderson. Don't worry, Wes has a plan. He won't be a problem."

He turned to see Nick and Jeff pulling their gloves on, smiling in what Blaine logically knew was a friendly way, but he couldn't fight the feeling of dread that had engulfed him.

"What do you mean?"

Jeff shrugged. "Thad thinks that their new chasers need work - Wes reckons Arrcorn'll want it over as soon as possible."

Nick put a comforting hand on Blaine's shoulder. "He asked us to keep Hummel off you, let you do your job and get this over with, in case Arrcorn has something nasty up his sleeve."

"You - you don't need to do that," Blaine argued. "I can look after myself. I mean, sure, he's fast -" _and unbelievably wonderful, and the sweetest person I've ever met, and his hand fits perfectly in mine - _"but I can handle it, you don't need to focus on him, it'll be -"

"Dude," Jeff said, "we're just doing what our fearless leader has dictated."

"What did I dictate? Nick, put down those chips, are you insane? You're about to fly, and you know how you get when you - hey, are those gummy bears? I want a green one."

Blaine addressed Wes, who had approached and was biting the head off of his gummy bear in a rather vicious fashion.

"Wes, don't you think that they should concentrate on keeping the chasers occupied? We know Quinn Fabray is good, even if she was gone last year, and the new -"

"Blaine, calm down." Wes took in his frantic arm gestures and patted him on the back. "It'll be fine. No one's going to get hurt, or anything. It's Quidditch. But this is important, and I'm going to make sure our best seeker can do his job. Just catch us a snitch - let me worry about the rest."

_Yeah, it's just flying in the air on magic broomsticks with other people around you and guys with bats pelting things at you as you try to find a goddamn golden golf-ball with wings. No worries, Blaine. And your best friend, the one your friends are plotting against. Don't worry about him._

"I just… I don't want anyone to get hurt." He took a deep breath and had a half of an idea. "And I… I want us to be on even footing. Ku - Hummel and I, I mean. I want… if I catch the snitch, I want it to be because I'm faster than him. Because I - I just… it's important, okay?"

Wes gave him a look. "We're a team, Blaine. And we're your friends. We've got your back."

He tried to keep his voice level. "I know." Over Wes' shoulder he saw Kurt leaning nonchalantly against his broomstick as Arrcorn told him something. He looked bored for a few seconds, then his posture abruptly changed and he seemed to be arguing. They were too far away for Blaine to be sure, but he was willing to bet that Kurt's cheeks were flushed from the slight chill, and possibly irritation with whatever his captain had said. Not as flushed as they would if Blaine touched his fingertips to his cheek, or looked at him a certain way before he kissed him. God, Blaine just loved the way - but now was not the time for that. "I know you do, Wes, and I appreciate it, I do… but I'd also appreciate a little faith here. I thought you trusted me."

It was a low blow, and Blaine felt a twinge of guilt at the look on his friend's face.

"Of course we do, Blai…fine. They'll back off until one of you gets close. But don't try anything stupid, okay? We _do_ have your back."

He smiled. "Thanks. Really."

Wes smiled at him slightly suspiciously. "Just do us all a favor and catch the snitch."

Blaine looked over at his team, then across at the Slytherins. He could have sworn he saw Kurt wink at him. He smiled. "I intend to."

* * *

><p>As soon as they heard the whistle pierce the excited murmuring of the crowd fourteen brooms hurtled into the air. Trent soared over to take his place, gloves at the ready in front of the hoops. David was already off with with the quaffle, passing it off to Thad, who aimed it at Wes, who didn't quite get there fast enough and - <em>damn<em>, Quinn was on good form. So much for Thad's theory about the chasers. Blaine had given himself some height, so he could survey the pitch, use it to his advantage, and was simultaneously trying to follow the progress of his teammates and search out the telltale golden flutter of the snitch. Kurt seemed to be doing the same thing, circling slightly, and when their eyes met Blaine was reminded of the first time they'd flown together.

It had been a few days after they'd met, before Kurt had been sorted. He was attending classes without knowing who his housemates would be, and Blaine, who had been absolutely and totally invested in helping the new boy since he'd turned around and heard the words "Excuse me. Um… hi! Can I ask you a question? I'm new here." He'd given him directions, and Kurt had passed him a thank you note in Transfiguration, and Blaine had complimented him (and Kurt had complimented right back) after choir practice (because, dear god, did he make that class even more fascinating to Blaine), and Kurt had snarked right back when one of the Slytherins had made a comment about his hair, and they'd run into each other in the corridor after class the next day and ended up talking for hours (Blaine had been late to practice). They'd written each other notes all that week, and when Blaine had mentioned he played on the Gryffindor team Kurt's eyes had lit up and he'd said, quietly, that he used to play at his old school, and he'd missed flying. Blaine had barely paused before inviting him to go flying the next morning before class, and they'd spent a wonderful hour laughing as they skimmed over the lake and the grounds, weaving in and out of the tall spirals. It had been obvious to Blaine that Kurt must be a seeker, and he'd told him to make sure he tried out for his house team once he was sorted - with no real doubt in his mind that Kurt would be a Gryffindor. He couldn't not be. And even the thought of possibly being replaced didn't really upset him as much as he'd thought it would. Because he really enjoyed the idea of Kurt making friends with all of his friends, and getting to sit next to him in the Great Hall for meals every day, and going to all their classes together, and watching him fly, just like that first day, their eyes meeting as the wind rushed past them, hearts racing, eyes bright -

"Anderson, I'm _so_ sorry, are you _busy_?"

He looked over to find Wes gesticulating wildly at him from a few hundred feet away.

"I don't mean to trouble you, but I thought you might like to try finding the snitch…?"

He waved his arm in apology and tried to focus. This was not helped by a sudden gust of air and a voice in his ear. "Touchy, isn't he?"

He caught the scent of vanilla (as though he hadn't recognized the voice) and smiled without turning. "Aren't you supposed to be busy?"

"I thought I'd come visit." Kurt came to casually float in front of him. "Having fun?"

"It's a riot." He nodded down. "Should you be over here?"

Kurt shrugged. "They'll think I'm employing psychological warfare… well, those who know what the words mean will, anyway."

Blaine tilted his head. "Are you?"

Kurt just rolled his eyes.

Blaine smirked and nodded down to the action, where Quinn had just responded to Thad's goal by scoring one of her own. "She's on good form today."

"She has something to prove."

He looked back up. "And you don't?"

Kurt seemed to consider this. Below him Arrcorn and Wes were fighting with the referee over the validity of one of Slytherin's tactics , and Trent had been momentarily stunned by a bludger to the head… hit by Jeff, who was looking sheepish as Thad yelled at him. Nick and Santana seemed to have developed a side-game for the time-out, in which they hit bludgers at each other. They were both laughing.

Kurt finally spoke. "I don't think I have to prove anything. Not to _them_, anyway."

Blaine smiled. "Good. Because when they see us talking they're going to be mad."

"Hey, I'm seeking up here. Don't know what you're talking about." He made a show of leaning over to scour the pitch. This had the effect of exposing part of his arm.

He paused. "Kurt, are you trying to distract me?"

"Is it working?"

"Definitely."

"Then yes."

The whistle blew to signal the end of the time out. Blaine reflected that he had never moved less in a game of quidditch.

"BLAINE ANDERSON, IF YOU ARE QUITE DONE -"

"HUMMEL, WHAT IN THE LOVE OF -"

They both sighed.

"Bye," Kurt said, speeding off.

"Nice scarf," Blaine yelled after him.

Kurt threw his arm back in a sign that had once gotten Jeff detention in Potions class.

They were both smiling.

* * *

><p>By the time the score was 110 - 120 in favor of Slytherin (Quinn really was very good, and that new chaser wasn't fast, but she was smart), Blaine was starting to get annoyed by the few snitch sightings. He'd thought he might have seen the flutter of golden wings a couple of times, but each time they disappeared before he could get close enough to check. Then Kurt had dived on the other side of the stadium, and Blaine had been torn between pride and the desire to internally berate himself… but he didn't have to make the choice because Kurt had come up empty handed. They'd even spotted it once, about halfway down the pitch, at almost the same second. They were both good, but Blaine had a slightly better broom that Kurt did, so he was pretty sure that he could beat him there by a few seconds - he dodged Thad, Quinn, and Wes and he was so close… except the snitch was gone. In the second it had taken him to weave around Wes, and Kurt to weave around David, it had gone again.<p>

Blaine tightened his scarf around his neck and scowled. He could think of a whole host of things he would rather be doing. Yes, he loved Quidditch, but they had been up here quite a while, and he was supposed to meet Kurt in their room tonight (after the victory/cheer-Wes-up party, depending on the outcome) for post-match hot chocolate. He had been promised marshmallows.

Quidditch was all very well and good, but he wanted his goddamn marshmallows. Preferably with a side of Kurt's lips.

He was just considering whether he'd have time to run up to his room to grab his hair gel, his eyes automatically covering the pitch, when he saw it.

Golden wings fluttering in the far corner of the field.

And in his peripheral vision he saw a green blur notice them as well.

Oh, it was _on,_ he smiled.

He'd be lying if he said there wasn't a certain excitement to competing with Kurt - a tension that carried over and made their secret meetings just a little more heated than they might have been otherwise. It was forbidden. It was charged and competitive.

It was pretty damn hot.

But Blaine didn't have time to think about that now, because he was streaking across the pitch, matching Kurt, and he'd get there, and he'd win, and then he'd win their little bet and Kurt would have to - and even if he didn't win, and Kurt was insufferable, it would be alright because they'd still be together.

And Blaine was beginning to think that that was better than a lousy snitch. Or even the House Cup.

He was so close, just a little -

"Go Blaine! We've got your back! Hey Hummel, try and catch this!"

He didn't even register whether it was Nick or Jeff. He turned his head and saw the heavy bat as it swung back from its hit, and the dark blur of the bludger heading towards them, aimed at Kurt.

Kurt, who was entirely focused on the snitch. Blaine played quidditch by instinct. he sometimes called it luck. Kurt was intently focused. Always.

And now there was a bludger aimed at the back of his head. Kurt wasn't avoiding it. He wasn't watching. There wasn't time to shout. That would just make Kurt turn into the impact.

Blaine had processed all of this before the bat had swung completely back, and he'd made his decision before it had even reached his conscious mind.

He didn't have the time.

_Kurt_ didn't have the time.

_They_ didn't have the time.

As the whistle of the bludger reached his ears he turned sharply.

He felt his body jolt… and then everything went dark.


	5. Chapter 4

He heard the voices and smelled his surroundings before he could open his eyes. Clipped tones, Wes' insistence, Trent's soothing voice comforting someone, and David mumbling back to the captain.

"It's a nice thing -"

" -don't understand why he's here -"

" - make assumptions -"

" - assumptions based in fact, David…. whose fault -"

" - considering what happened -"

" - can't believe -"

" - I really think -"

" - a house matter… only… I should tell -"

" - what does it matter?… wants to be here…"

The faint scent of antiseptic mostly masked by the perfume of flowers, with a heavy scent of sweat. And he felt - before he was even concious enough to really resister what it meant - himself smile at a faint trace of vanilla nearby… a trace he associated with late nights of warmth and safety, the sound of laughter and the press of lips agains his temple, his cheek, his hair.

His eyelids seemed heavy, though, so he decided to try moving his hand first, to see if that might work better. He moved a finger experimentally, and he could feel the press of what he presumed to be a sheet. There was a hushing noise, the voices were silenced, and then he heard his name.

"Anderson?" That was Wes.

"Can you hear us?" David.

"Sorry about the bludger, bro." Jeff. That explained a lot.

"He isn't opening his eyes." Nick just didn't understand how much _effort_ it would take.

There was a sudden collective inhale from the group and then a quiet voice could be heard.

"Blaine, can you hear me?"

Maybe it would be worth it. He fought the weight holding his eyelashes down and was immediately blinded by the bright light blinking away the worst of the glare. The first thing he saw was a white ceiling, but he dragged his gaze down to find the entire Gryffindor quidditch team crowded around his bed.

But none of their voices were the one he'd heard. And standing at the edge of the group, lips pursed and posture rigid in what Blaine knew was concern and discomfort, but had probably been written off by his teammates as Slytherin callous superiority, was Kurt.

He found his voice. "Hey."

Kurt's lips twitched as he breathed a silent sigh of relief. If Wes noticed that Blaine's eyes weren't on his housemates he didn't show it. He moved closer and patted him on the arm.

"Hey, Blaine. How'd ya feel?" Jeff asked nervously.

"Like I've been stepped on by a particularly vicious hippogriff."

"Well," frowned Wes, his voice laced with worry masked by annoyance, "that's what happens when you _throw yourself into the path of projectiles_."

Blaine blinked. Oh, yeah. The bludger.

"Are you okay?" he asked Kurt, who gave him a look and opened his mouth to respond.

"Of course he's okay," Wes dismissed him with a gesture, and Blaine expected a biting remark from the Slytherin. It would have been deserved. Instead Kurt kept quiet, and Blaine noticed he was pale and had a bandage around his wrist.

"What happened to you?" Again, Kurt opened his mouth, but Wes got there first. This time he was a little less hostile.

"Well, Anderson, as you seemed to decide that you had a sudden affinity for being knocked off a broom" - that explained the pain in his torso, and the half-empty bottle of some strong looking potion on the table beside him - "and most of us were too busy marveling at your idiocy from a great distance to stop you from falling to an extremely splattery death -"

"Who won?"

Wes stopped at looked at him. "Seriously?"

"Who won?" He was looking at Kurt now. That would have been a huge win for him, he hoped -

"No one _won_, Blaine. You fell off your broom, and the match ended early. Because you were _unconscious_."

His forehead creased. "But… Ku…" he turned his eyed to the boy in green. "You had the snitch. It was -"

Kurt spoke for the first time since Blaine had opened his eyes, and his voice was slightly faded. Blaine noticed his eyes were a little red. "You screamed…"

David added, when it seemed like Kurt couldn't find any more words. "It's lucky Kurt heard you, Blaine. He managed to get to you - keep you in the air until we could get there."

Blaine smiled. "You caught me."

Everyone's attention was on Jeff, who dropped his broomstick, which is why Kurt took a small step forward and mouthed, almost instinctively, Blaine new favorite word.

"Always."

* * *

><p>A few minutes passed, Kurt sitting quietly on the periphery, Blaine stealing glances every so often as his team talked, asked him why he'd done it, and, in the case of a few of them, generally tried to make Kurt so uncomfortable that he would leave. It seemed to perplex them that he hadn't yet. Finally Wes turned to him.<p>

"Listen, Hummel, we appreciate what you did, and we know you feel bad that he got hurt by a bludger that was meant for you, but it's kind of weird that you're still here, and if you're hoping to pick up strategy tips for the rematch in a few weeks you can tell Arrcorn that -"

"Wes," Blaine interrupted, fighting the fuzzy feeling in his head. He'd taken a sleeping potion a few minutes before, one that was supposed to knock him out while he healed, so he wasn't entirely sure what was happening, but Kurt looked unhappy, and Wes shouldn't make Kurt unhappy. Kurt should smile. Anything else was wrong. Wes needed to understand. "What are you doing? Why can't he stay? I want him to stay. I really l -"

"It's okay," Kurt smiled falsely at the room. Blaine hated it. He'd spent weeks working his way past that smile. "I just wanted to - I understand. Bl - Anderson, I just want so say that I'm sorry you got hurt. I wish you - I'll see you around…" And before Blaine can protest he was gone, a swirl of green and happiness. Blaine frowned at Wes. The potion was working, so he was beginning to drift off, but he was still annoyed. Wes was his friend. And Kurt was more than his friend. They should all be friends. That would be good.

"Why did you do that?"

Wes opened his mouth to respond when the curtain flew open and the entire team was shooed from the room so that Blaine could sleep. As he drifted off Blaine noticed that something had been left on the table next to his bed, right by the chair Kurt had been sitting in. Something soft, that he hadn't noticed until now.

A teddy bear. Wearing a green scarf.

He knew whose teddy bear that was.

Blaine reached out for it, wincing as the pain hit him, and pulled it to his chest, settling back onto the pillows and letting sleep claim him.

He let his face rest in the soft fur, imagined he was curled up in the grass with arms around him, and dreamed in shades of green, gold, and piercing blue.


	6. Chapter 5

He woke to substantially less pain, and opened his eyes to see what might possibly be one of his favorite sights in the world. In the chair near his bed a boy was curled up, legs wrapped elegantly under his body, a book balanced precariously on his knees, eyes closed. His green tie was loose, his hair a little out of place, escaping the confines of his careful coiff to rest across his forehead. Blaine smiled and watched for a little while, holding the teddy bear close to his chest. After a few minutes blue-grey eyes fluttered open and met his, and Blaine bit his lip to stop himself from saying anything stupid.

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Hi," Kurt smiled quietly, sitting up and fixing his hair.

"What day is it?"

"Monday."

"Shouldn't you be in class?"

Kurt looked at him very seriously as he stood, placed his book on the side-table, and came to sit on the edge of the bed. "I have a cold," he said, gravely and deliberately. "Atc-hoo."

Blaine laughed. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too."

Something shifted in the tone as they looked each other, and Blaine looked away. "Thanks for the company, by the way." He held the bear close. "He made me feel better."

"I know you like soft - the blankets here aren't - and as -"

"He smells like you," Blaine said. "It was really nice."

There was a pause.

"Blaine -"

"I'm really sorry I missed our date. I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"Blai-"

"Although I may have to lay off the flying for a few days. And I'll probably have to be careful. But you'll look after me, right?" He grinned disarmingly, hoping Kurt would change the subject from what he knew was coming.

"Do I look like a nurse to you?"

"We could work on that."

Kurt's smile lingered for only a moment.

"Blaine, we need to talk about this."

"We are talking."

"Don't be obtuse," Kurt snapped. Blaine opened his mouth. "I swear, if you use that 'acute' line right now…"

Blaine closed his mouth for a few seconds. "This wasn't that big of a -"

"Don't you dare tell me it wasn't a big deal," Kurt insisted, his voice scarily level, past his ever-present barrier of control. "I was _there_, Blaine. I heard you _scream_. I saw you fall, and for a horrible moment…" he closed his eyes - "I thought… I thought I wasn't going to be able to get to you. Not in time. I saw you falling, and I -"

"You caught me," Blaine finished, reaching out for his hand. Kurt hesitated before he took it, and Blaine twined their fingers together.

"That isn't the point, Blaine." His voice had softened with the touch. "You can't just - I know it's weird, this - and I know you -" He sighed, closed his eyes again, just for a moment. Blaine thought he might have seen the beginnings of tears, an ocean of liquid blue that he'd dearly love to drown in. "Us - whatever this is - you can't just _do _things like that. You _can't_. I really - I really care about you, and I can't… watch that happen."

"You were going to get hurt."

He huffed in exasperation. "It's _Quidditch_, Blaine. I play a sport in which we fly at a great height while people are hitting things at us with bats. Injury is part of the risk. If the worst danger I'm ever in during my lifetime is the threat of a bludger then I'll count myself very lucky. And you can't spend your life trying to protect me. I don't need to be protected."

"But my friends -"

"I know this isn't ideal. But if you can't shake this knight gallant routine then… I don't see how this is going to work."

Blaine thought for a minute. "I'm sorry I scared you. I really am. And I'm sorry that you had to watch that, to hear it."

Kurt squeezed his hand. "I need you to promise me that you won't do anything stupid like that again."

"No," he said simply.

Kurt blinked. "What did you just say?"

"I won't promise that. I can't. I'd do it again in a second."

Kurt practically snarled as he stood up, taking his hand away and beginning to pace the small area.

"I cannot _believe_ you. Why do you always have to be so stupid and noble? I'm not a damsel in distress, Blaine! I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself!"

"I wasn't saying tha-"

"That's _exactly_ what you were saying," he accused. "And I am so unbelievably annoyed at you, because -" he looked for a reaction, and when he found none he made another exasperated noise. "Why do you always have to be such a -" he bit his lip.

"Say it," Blaine said with a slight smirk, but his eyes were dark with concern. "I know you want to."

"Fine!" Kurt snapped. "Why do you have to be such a stupid, idiotic_ Gryffindor _about everything? Sometimes nobility isn't what's needed, Blaine." There were tears in his eyes. "Sometimes courage just gets you in a hospital wing, yelling at your _secret boyfriend_, who you can't tell anyone about because… you aren't really sure about anything anymore, and it shouldn't matter, nothing should matter except what you're feeling, but it does, because that's the way the world works. So you say fine, you take what you can get, every second you can steal, because it's worth it, and it - he - well, it seems like he'll always be worth it. And sometimes, Blaine, what courage gets you is that boy telling you that he doesn't respect you enough to let you look after yourself, that he's going to continue to do idiotically stupid things, like throw himself off broomsticks and into the path of oncoming projectiles, and it makes you wonder, you know, about whether, even if everyone could know, he'd want them to, if he respects you, cares as much as you'd hoped, even if he does do all these stupid, idiotic things that shouldn't make you even a little happy, because he could have died, and I just -"

Blaine grabbed his hand as he stopped - he was just within reach. "Hey… come here."

There was a moment where he thought Kurt might refuse, walk out, even level him with the icy glare he knew most were well acquainted with.

And then Kurt turned his head, and there was a tear on his cheek.

Blaine pulled his arm gently, a question, not a demand, and Kurt sighed, but didn't hesitate this time before coming back to sit on the bed.

"I'm so sorry," Blaine whispered.

"For what?" Kurt moved his hand up to wipe the tear away dismissively, but Blaine stopped him.

"For whatever I did or said to make you think that you aren't one of the strongest people I've ever met." He wiped the tear away with his thumb and leaned up so their eyes were level. He winced at a brief stab of pain, and Kurt opened his mouth, reaching forward, but he held up a hand. "_And_ for whatever I did to make you think that you aren't the most important thing to me, and that I'd give absolutely anything to be able to tell everyone that we're together, that I'm - that you're everything. Because you are. And I know you're strong, that's something I love about you, your fire, and I want you to know that I know that. And I… I'll try to think about things a little more before I jump in to try and save you. It isn't because I don't - it's just… it's difficult sometimes, because I want everything to be perfect for you - _I_ want to be perfect for you. I want to be brave, be better." His own eyes weren't entirely dry. "It isn't me being noble because I'm a Gryffindor, Kurt. I wasn't thinking of _Gryffindor _when I was up there…. I was thinking of _you_." He paused and his hand, which had been resting on Kurt's cheek, flew to his chest in agitation. " I don't know why I can't - I just, when I was up there… I'm so sorry. God, I'm so sorry you had to -"

Kurt smiled, settling a soothing hand on Blaine's arm. "I guess love makes us do pretty stupid things. Especially you."

There was silence. Blaine brought his eyes to Kurt's with great intensity. "Do you think that's what this is?"

Kurt froze in horror. "Oh, god. You don't - I didn't mean to… I just…" He shifted away. "I should go to - can we just -"

"Because I am totally down with that."

Kurt blinked at him. "What?"

"I said -"

"I heard you." He blinked again, opened his mouth, then closed it again. "That is probably the least romantic thing I have ever heard."

Blaine looked mildly offended. "I meant that -"

"I know what you mea-"

"No, let me say it." Blaine adjusted himself in the bed with great effort, unconsciously pulling the teddy bear closer and taking Kurt's hand again. "I need to tell you, finally, because sometimes I don't think that you know. And that's wrong. That's stupid - almost as much as the fact that our friends don't know - my friends don't know how… how much I feel about you. I mean, we've been… together… for more than four months now -"

"Four months and two weeks," Kurt added automatically.

"Four months and twelve days," Blaine corrected with a smile. "Anyway… I wasn't… I was scared to say it, because at first I wasn't sure what… but now, I'm… maybe I should just -"

"Use your words, Blaine." The words were said casually, but they both knew the gravity of this moment.

"I love you," Blaine said with certainty. "And I hope you knew that, but it feels really good to say it anyway. And I hope you love me too, because if that isn't what you meant before then that would suck, but you don't have to-"

"I do. I mean - I love you. That's what I meant. Before. I -" Kurt seemed to run out of words, so he closed his mouth. They were smiling at each other, nervous, just like they'd been at the beginning.

"Well," Blaine offered eventually, grinning idiotically,"that's good."

"Yeah." Kurt was running his thumb up and down Blaine hand. "Blaine?"

"Yeah."

"I think I'd like to kiss you."

"You sound unsure about this."

"I don't think I should."

"Why? I'm in favor."

Kurt rolled his eyes and tilted his head sharply towards the curtain that masked both the rest of the ward and the office, from which a humming noise was approaching, accompanied by footsteps.

"It looks like my time is up," Kurt said regretfully. The edge to it - that Blaine knew was sadness - had been so often mistaken for sarcasm or distain that Blaine wanted to do nothing more than pull him close, grab his wand and turn the curtain into walls, or a moat, or something. Unfortunately, not only did he not have his wand in hand, they also hadn't quite covered that in Transfiguration yet.

"Kiss, please? Quickly?"

Kurt hesitated.

"You love me," Blaine reminded him, hoping his eyes could be described as smoldering. "And I love you, and I'll miss you when you're forced to go back to pretend to be sick in bed, or wherever."

Kurt smiled and leaned forward. "I'll be thinking of you."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. Kurt frowned and blushed a little.

"Oh, shut up."

He leaned in and pressed a soft, loving kiss to Blaine's lips, letting his bottom lip pout open only slightly before moving to peck him on the cheek, reluctantly pulling away with a whisper that sounded like "I love you" as the clip of high heels clattered to a stop and the sharp screech of the curtain being thrust open caused Blaine to jump. When he looked back over Kurt was the picture of innocence, sitting curled up in the corner with his book again.

Madame Pomfrey was not amused…ever, it seemed. She bustled around Blaine's bed, replacing bottles and fluffing the pillows unnecessarily. "Mr. Hummel, Mr. Anderson, I do hope you haven't been fighting. Why students insist on perpetuating these ridiculous rivalries is beyond me. You know, in my opinion -"

"We weren't fighting," Blaine said. "Kurt was just visiting while he was here."

She pursed her lips. "Well. I suppose that's - Mr. Hummel, I thought I told you to go back to your room… if you're feeling so awful then I expect it's very tiring for you to read or… converse."

Kurt opened his mouth to argue but thought the better of it. "Actually," he sniffed coolly, "I think that's a good idea. I'll just be on my way." He looked at Blaine, aching to speak his mind. "I - I'll see you soon, Blaine. Feel better." When Madame Pomfrey looked between them at the glance his eyes snapped to her, then around frantically. "I hope," he said with a detachment that shocked Blaine momentarily, "that Godfrey makes you feel better." He gestured to the bear in Blaine's arms. "He looks very special. Maybe he has healing powers, or something." He snorted humorlessly.

Blaine smiled. Godfrey the bear. Good to know. "I'll see you."

There was a pause as they looked at each other in understanding. Kurt finally turned to go, realizing Madame Pomfrey's eyes were on him. "Oh, and Anderson?"

"Yes?"

"What I said - I meant it."

And with that he was gone. And, while Madame Pomfrey chattered about silly house rivalries and practical jokes, Blaine took the sleeping potion he was handed without complaint, knowing exactly what he would dream about when he closed his eyes and held Godfrey close, reveling in the scent of Vanilla and the memory of a kiss that had felt - to both of them - like a promise.


	7. Chapter 6

Wes and David came by on Monday afternoon - ostensibly to bring him his homework, but actually just to hang out. It was always a relief to Blaine when Wes dropped his intense Quidditch captain persona a little, turned back into the guy Blaine had met at breakfast during his first week of his first year, thinking Wes was so cool because he was a_ third year _and on the Quidditch team, which, as far as Blaine was concerned, was as close to royalty as it was possible to be. And outside of practice Wes turned back into the guy who hated Potions, loved Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and refused to brush his hair in the morning because he'd just get it messed up at practice anyway. He snapped less, but also didn't think as carefully about his appearance, or what he said. And David, he could then become less the voice of reason and more himself, the caring friend that Blaine was certain he couldn't have survived his first months at Hogwarts without.

"…And then Brittany accidentally set fire to his robes," David informed him. "He was not best pleased. We have an essay due next week."

"In fairness," Wes added, "the only reason it happened is because she was trying to stop one of the Slytherin thugs from picking on Abrams."

"Artie can handle himself," David argued. "He's quick."

"Still. Those damn serps…"

Blaine interrupted. "Can you not use that word, please?"

Wes blinked. "What?"

"Calling the slytherins… that. Don't."

He blinked some more. "But… you mean, serpents? But, Blaine, you know, they call themselves -"

"That doesn't make it cool. We don't need to cause more drama. There are… there are cool Slytherins too."

Wes snorted. "Okay. When you find them let me know."

"Considering the fact that the only reason I'm still-"

David saw the darkening look on Blaine's face. "Okay! So, did you hear about what Mike Chang did during dinner the other day?"

Blaine let his eyes wander away from Wes. "What?"

"Well, I guess he and Tina had a fight, so he -"

Blaine sort of tuned the story out, to be honest. He was thinking about Kurt again, about how his day was going, whether he'd ever finished that Charms essay he'd talked about, and how much he wished he could have made their date tonight. They hadn't really planned anything, because they'd been focused on the match, but it had been Kurt's turn to pick, so he was betting there would have been hot chocolate involved. Kurt knew that the little marshmallows reminded him of home. His parents' house, he meant, because as time went on he was starting to believe that home might not be as centered around a _place_ as he had always believed.

And then there was a sweeping sound as the doors swung open, and Kurt was standing there, like he'd heard Blaine's thoughts.

"I decided since you couldn't -"

He was holding his messenger bag over his shoulder, and his smile - _my smile_, Blaine found himself thinking, _that's for me_, and he bit his lip to keep from saying something stupid - disappeared when he saw Wes and David at the bed. He put down the smaller bag he was carrying on the next bed over and straightened his spine.

"Well, hello." he finally continued. "I hope you're feeling better." This was adressed to Blaine, who was betting that it sounded cold and detached to anyone who couldn't see the concern behind it.

"I should get out of here in time for breakfast tomorrow," he replied. "Thanks for asking."

"So," David tried cordially. "What brings you here, Hummel?"

"I -" he searched for a moment, his eyes searching, then lighted on his own arm. "I just wanted to get my wrist checked out."

"It hurts?" Blaine asked instinctively.

"I didn't want to bother with it earlier - there was stuff happening. But - just a bit. I just though I'd -"

"I guess that's just like a Slytherin," Wes said, not maliciously, but with subtle distain behind his smile. "Too stubborn to ask for help until everything gets worse."

Kurt's response was automatic, and Blaine wondered how long he'd had it waiting. "Just like a Gryffindor, ungrateful for any help, even if it saves your friend, because you wanted the glory for yourself."

"Listen," said Wes, straightening up, "if you think that just because you -"

"Wes, leave it," David said.

Wes ignored him. "You have some kind of -"

"I don't know what you-"

"Don't," Blaine pleaded quietly, his eyes on Kurt, who glanced at him and barely nodded.

Kurt brought his hand down a little harder than intended onto the railing of the bed next to Blaine's and winced as the pain hit him. Wes snorted.

"Surprised you didn't go crying to Mommy, Hummel, isn't that more the Slyth-"

"Shut up!"

Three sets of concerned eyes flicked to Blaine, the only one in that room, besides Kurt himself, who had known why Kurt's hand had gone for his wand, surprised at his outburst.

"My… I have a headache," Blaine shrugged. "Don't argue."

Wes opened his mouth to respond, but before he could Madame Pomfrey's voice filled the room, drifting from her office. "Mr. Hummel, could you come here? And remember, Mr. Anderson, only a couple more minutes before your guests have to leave!"

Kurt met Blaine's eyes briefly, then stalked off, his whole body tense.

Wes snorted. "Can you believe that -"

"His mother's dead, Wes." Blaine said quietly. That wasn't a breach of confidence, and Wes needed to know what he'd done.

The boy looked slightly floored. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"I didn't -"

"Yeah."

"I should -"

"Do what you want. I wouldn't, though."

Wes appeared to consider this. "How do you know? About his Mom, I mean? Did he tell you that first week?"

_No_, Blaine thought, _he told me a week before we kissed, on the day I realized that he trusted me as much as I did him_. "It isn't a secret."

"I didn't know."

"Yeah, well, now you do."

The click of Madame Pomfrey's shoes stopped any further discussion, and as she reached the bed, Kurt just behind her with a thin bandage wrapped around his right wrist, she rounded on Wes and David.

"Visit over!" She waved her arms. "Leave him to rest!"

Wes straightened up, but David's eyes were flicking between Kurt and Blaine.

After a few seconds Madame Pomfrey pulled out her wand. "Boys…"

"We're going!" Wes exclaimed. He turned to Blaine, patting him on the shoulder. "Later, Blaine. We'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

David grinned. "See you soon, man." They both turned to the door and David made a point of pausing. "Bye, Kurt."

Kurt smiled minutely. "Goodbye."

Wes hesitated for a microsecond. "Later, Hummel."

Kurt's cool nod in response was honestly more than Blaine had expected.

Once they were gone there was relative silence, the bustling of Madame Pomfrey curtailing the verbalization of the conversation they were having with their eyes.

"Mr Hummel, you may return to your homework now," she said airily.

There was a long pause.

She announced loudly, to no one in particular. "Mr. Anderson, I need to get you more of this potion for tonight, if you want to be released tomorrow. I'll be back in a moment."

Her eyes were knowing as she bustled out of sight.

There was silence.

"Is your wrist okay?" Blaine asked.

"It'll be fine."

Neither of them was willing to break eye contact.

"I missed you."

"It's only been a few hours."

"I still missed you."

Another pause. Kurt finally let himself smile.

"I missed you too."

Blaine patted the bed. "Stay?"

Kurt bit his lip. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"This… news travels fast here. Wes and David saw me. They'll -"

"I don't care."

"You don't mean that."

Blaine took a second to make sure he was looking Kurt in the eye. "Yes, I do."

"This wasn't a good idea."

Ice filled his veins. "What wasn't?"

"Coming here tonight." Kurt caught his expression. "Oh. No! I wasn't saying - I didn't -"

He breathed again. "I know. But I want to spend time with you."

Kurt looked at him sadly. "You have too much to lose."

Blaine stared at him incredulously. "That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard in my life."

"Blaine -"

"Do you really think that this -" he gestured to the doors "…this secrecy - do you really think that this isn't us already _losing_?"

Kurt's face hardened slightly. "Well, if you don't think it's worth it -"

"I didn't say that."

They each took a moment.

"I should go," Kurt finally said.

"No, don't -"

He looked over his shoulder, then took a step closer to the bed. "This isn't me flouncing out. But you need to rest, so you can get out of here."

Blaine frowned.

"Hey, you want to get that date, don't you?" He let his fingers touch his hand, which turned to twine their fingers together.

"I really do miss you."

Kurt leaned over to press a kiss to his temple. "Me too. And… one day, we'll both be out of here, okay?"

Both tried not to think about how far away that day really was.

"Yeah," Blaine smiled. "I love you."

Their foreheads touched. "I love you too." There was a pause. "Even though you clearly do not currently have access to breath mints."

He huffed. "I nearly died, you know."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I know, I was _there_. That is going to wear thin."

"I'm sure our grandchildren will appreciate it," he retorted. And _woah_, where the hell had _that_ come from?

They froze. Blaine blushed.

"I - sorry. That was - I didn't mean to imply…" he took a deep breath. "Please don't freak out."

Kurt opened his mouth, then closed it again. "I - I'm not. Which is… odd."

"I'm not, like, planning anything," Blaine hastened to assure him. "I just… this feels good, you know? So it isn't as scary to think about - which, considering the circumstances, and how much we've had to -"

"I get it," Kurt said with a small smile. "But… let's not name our children just yet, okay? Because… this really should be freaking me out a lot more than it is."

Blaine blinked at him. "Yeah."

Madame Pomfrey bustled back over, and Kurt squeezed his hand before he let go.

"Well, Mr. Anderson, I think we'll have you out of here on time…. Mr. Hummel?"

"Just going." He picked up his messenger bag from the floor and smiled tightly before adding an outwardly cool "See you around" in parting.

Blaine took the potion, deciding he might as well get started on his homework. As he was being fussed over he noticed the small canvas bag that Kurt had left on the next bed over. Madame Pomfrey's eyes followed his gaze and picked it up, handing it to him.

"Is this yours?"

He opened the bag. Inside was a thermos of hot chocolate, a packet of mini-marshmallows, and a very, very small box.

"Yeah," he said. "It's mine."

She left, muttering to herself about sugar and nutritional content.

Blaine opened the to find a tiny, tasseled scarf. It was patterned in maroon and green, with silver and gold threaded through the ends. He took Godfrey the bear from his place sitting on the bedside table and replaced his green scarf with the newer one that Kurt must have made, probably with only slight magical aid.

Then he opened the marshmallows, offered Godfrey one before popping it in his own mouth, and started his homework, his mind somewhere else entirely.


	8. Chapter 7

_[A/N: There was an error at one point, where a chapter was uploaded twice, meaning one was missing for a few days. This has since been corrected._

_This is part seven of this arc, and the final piece, but I have promised to write more in this 'verse, so if you are interested then I recommend staying tuned for other stories/one shots! Thank you so much for all the feedback!_

_Also, you should check out laertena's artwork for this series - it's linked on my tumblr masterpost, which is in turn linked on my profile.]_

* * *

><p>Blaine fought to get out of the hospital wing early the next morning and dashed to breakfast, essentially brushing off Madame Pomfrey's unnecessary and irritated fussing (several first years had accidentally charmed themselves instead of the glass of water they were trying to evaporate, and the results were complicated). By the time he got to the Great Hall it was almost full, and as he passed the Slytherin table he heard one of the Prefects snicker. He kept walking, but started when he heard a sharp noise.<p>

"Is something _funny_, Matthews? Because until you can either fly in a straight line for more than a minute or form a coherent sentence, I think you should keep your annoying, smug giggles to yourself."

Blaine smiled. _Good morning to you too, Kurt_.

He turned slightly to see that, surely enough, Kurt was dropping his books onto an empty seat, Santana close behind. She added to his greeting by cuffing Matthews across the head, and rolled her eyes when he started spluttering about detention. She caught Blaine's eye and he thought he saw a flicker of a smile. Then her attention shifted, and he followed her gaze to see a group of Hufflepuff girls entering the hall, Brittany, one of the Hufflepuff chasers, in the lead. Brittany waved at Santana, who only smiled tightly in response before leaning over to talk to one of the other Slytherins.

Well, Blaine thought, turning to join his friends at the Gryffindor table, that explained a great deal.

He greeted his house with enthusiasm, taking hugs and pats on the back, and assured Jeff that he really didn't blame him in the slightest. Trent snorted.

One of the first years piped up from next to David, almost incoherent with giddiness at being involved in the team's conversation.

"Yeah, I mean, it was obviously that other seeker's fault. The serp. Hummel. I mean, if he hadn't have been so close like that, then it never would have happened! Gryffindor for the cup!"

Everyone turned to blink at his unwarranted enthusiasm. Everyone except for Blaine, who had suddenly lost his appetite for the large plate of food in front of him.

"_What_ did you say?"

The boy was being asked for his opinion- by the _seeker of the Quidditch team_ - and he was so excited that his voice was almost a squeak.

"Well, I just said that that serp, Hummel, he was -"

"I heard what you said." Blaine gritted out. "I was just so overcome with indignance and pity for you that I wasn't _sure_."

"But he -"

"Kurt saved my life."

"But -"

"And if I_ ever_ hear you use that word in my presence, you can be certain that you will regret it."

The boy's eyes were wide. He nodded. "Um… sorry." He paused before gathering his things and hurrying off, leaving his eggs untouched.

The rest of the team was staring at Blaine like he'd gone insane.

"What," Nick asked, "was that?"

"Did they give you something in the hospital wing?" Jeff asked. "Because this one time I ate these mushrooms, and -"

"I'm fine," Blaine stated, reaching for a glass and pouring himself some orange juice. "Just tired of all the fighting."

Wes raised an eyebrow. "Well, you certainly scared that first year straight." He looked at Jeff, who had opened his mouth. "Not _a word_."

Blaine pursed his lips, then looked around the table at the shocked expressions and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I - I'll talk to him later. Apologize for - but I wasn't wrong."

David touched his arm in what might have been agreement, but Jeff shrugged. "C'mon man. I mean, I get it, and that's noble and all, but they're just Slytherins…"

Blaine let his fork clatter to the table. "No one here is _just_ anything." He looked over at the Slytherin table and saw that Kurt and Santana had vacated their chairs and were crossing the hall to exit through the main doors. Kurt was laughing at something she'd said, and his cheeks were flushed. He looked at his confused teammates, whose faces looked varying degrees of worried, then back at Kurt. He made a decision.

He stood up. "Kurt!"

The boy turned at his name, which had been yelled loudly enough that they had gathered a fair amount of attention, and his eyes widened when he saw Blaine crossing to meet him. His grey eyes flickered briefly to the Gryffindor table.

"Did you need something Bl - Anderson?" he asked, sliding the strap of his shoulder bag further on to his shoulder. Santana stood to the side, looking bored. Blaine saw Finn Hudson at the Hufflepuff table, watching for any sign of trouble. He took an urgent step forward, closing the few feet between them.

"Did you mean it?"

He started, then chuckled. "Mean what?"

"About wanting everyone to know. In the forest, when we - did you mean it?"

Kurt let out a breath of air. "Blaine, everyone can see us," he hissed.

"If you want me to go then I'll go will. But answer the question." He looked him in the eye. "Do you mean it?"

There was uncertainty in Kurt's eyes, and in that moment Blaine realized that he had possibly just screwed things up irrevocably. Because if Kurt didn't -

"Yes," whispered Kurt hurriedly, but resolutely.

Blaine's smile was intantaneous, surprised, and relieved. "Really?"

Kurt gave him a look.

Blaine sighed happily and took another step closer. "Okay then."

And then he brought his hands up to his boyfriend's face, leaned in, and touched their lips softly. It wasn't insistent, wasn't hurried, because a small part of him, the small, scared part that remembered everything bad and was convinced that at any second he could get slapped across the face, or dumped, or cursed into oblivion, that part was savoring the moment with the rest of him - the first moment of contact, with a surprised Kurt responding almost out of habit.

And then Kurt realized what was happening.

And he let his bag drop to the floor.

Blaine was fairly certain that there was a great deal of whispering and outright confusion going on around them - he could hear some of it. But it was a very dulled roar in comparison to his other senses - the softness of Kurt's hand as it ran up his cheek and into his hair, tugging ever so slightly to adjust the angle… the smell of Vanilla… the taste of coffee and blueberry muffin, the chocolate from the coffee a little bitter on his tongue where it met the orange juice his taste buds could still remember. It was delicious - the familiar press of their lips, gentle but deepening as both of them relaxed into the kiss, relaxed into_them_, because while this was new (and downright shocking) for those around them, for the two if them it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Kurt flicked his tongue across his lower lip, and as their tongues tangled Blaine let his arms tighten, realizing that they were going to have to come up for air eventually (though he'd really rather not) and absolutely determined that when that happened Kurt was not escaping anywhere. Unless he really wanted to. Oh, god. What if he wanted to? What if he thought this was a huge mistake and - _oh, hi Kurt's tongue. Okay, then. Worry about that later_.

Kurt was the one to break the kiss, pulling away slightly after pressing his lips briefly to the corner of Blaine's mouth and murmuring quietly (over the cacophony of noise around them) "So… am I to I gather that you unilaterally decided that we're doing this now?"

Blaine blinked, enjoying the way Kurt's lower lip was ever so slightly pouting. "Uh… I… I thought… I really wasn't thinking. I'm sorry. We should -"

"I'm not sorry," Kurt said, pulling away and fixing his tie. "Okay, let's do this."

At his words Blaine finally turned to take in the reactions to their little display, which ranged across a wide spectrum, from confusion (most of the Hufflepuff table, including Finn, who seemed like he wasn't sure whether he should be playing big brother or not - Blaine thought it was wise that he'd stayed put, as he'd been on the receiving end of Kurt's death glare, and it was nothing to sneeze at, especially when accompanied by a kick to the shin), through complete and utter indifference (Santana, who was still standing a few feet away filing her nails and glancing at Brittany), to outright horror and hostility. It was easy to pick out those on the Slytherin team who knew Kurt best - and, presumably, Blaine thought, while they hadn't known about the two of them, found it more important to read the look on Kurt's face, to see if he was happy or not, than to project outrage. Several of the older Slytherins, Arrcorn included, had shoved their chairs back at the sight, and were making their way over, gesticulating wildly. Blaine felt Kurt's fingers twine more tightly through his. At his own table, closer to them, most of the Gryffindor team was staring at them slack jawed (along with a few whispering first years). Nick and Jeff looked sort of like goldfish, gaping unintelligently. Trent and David were conversing urgently in hushed tones while Wes, whose reaction Blaine wished desperately he could read, was clearly shocked, but also hooded. Blaine hadn't expected that.

"HUMMEL!" Arrcorn was thundering his way across the room, bellowing at the top of his lungs. "HUMMEL, JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, FOR FU-"

"I'm saying good morning to my _boyfriend_, Arrcorn. Do you have a _problem_with that?" Kurt replied coldly, and if it wasn't for the way his hand was being gripped Blaine might have been fooled. He saw Finn rise at the Hufflepuff table and nod to a few of his friends to come over, Mike Chang among them.

"Hummel," Arrcorn hissed, ignoring Blaine entirely, "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing associating with that Gryff scum, but no player on my team-"

"Shut up, Arrcorn," he snapped. "If you don't have anything intelligent to say -"

"Are you calling me _stupid_, Hummel?"

"You seem to be surprised," Santana offered without emotion. "It certainly wouldn't be the first time."

Arrcorn took a menacing step forward, and Blaine didn't even think before moving to block him, ignoring the pull of Kurt's hand. But it turned out the gesture, however stupid it may have been (seriously, Arrcorn was about four times Blaine's size), was unnecessary, because Blaine found himself stepping forward into a space that was no longer empty.

"Arrcorn," David said smoothly, "I really hope you weren't about to do anything stupid."

Arrcorn sneered. "Mind your own business. Hummel's on my team - shouldn't you be putting the leash on your own seeker? Seems like Hummel's been slumming it with Fido, here, but don't worry. He and I will have a little chat, and I'll make sure that no team member of mine associates with the Gryffindor scum -"

"_Don't_ call him that, " Kurt snapped, earning the attention of the entire group. "And if you have a problem with the people who I choose to gi - to spend my time with, then I can make this very simple."

"Kurt, no," Blaine tugged on his hand. "You don't have to -"

"I quit," Kurt announced without hesitation. Wes' jaw looked like it might detach and actually hit the floor, and the murmurs of everyone eating breakfast in the great hall had dulled as those closest to them speculated about what was happening.

Arrcorn snorted. "You aren't serious. You aren't going to quit the team just because some -"

"Say it and I swear to god I will hex you in front of the entire school," Kurt swore.

"Kurt," Blaine interrupted. "This isn't necessary -"

"Yes it is," Kurt said resolutely. "It's completely necessary, and I'm sorry that I waited this long to say it."

Arrcorn seemed to be realizing that this conversation was not going at all to plan, and was stepping forward threateningly, his gaze focused on Kurt.

There was a loud cough.

"Arrcorn," Wes said carefully, joining the group, "I would point out that the Hogwarts code of conduct clearly states that any person who is deemed responsible for harm to another student is automatically removed from all extra-curricular teams for the remainder of the school year, at which point a disciplinary committee can be called to review the incident."

The large Slytherin's brow furrowed.

"This is your final year at Hogwarts, isn't it?" Wes continued. "You're a seventh year."

"More like a tenth year," Santana muttered.

"It would be a shame if you got stripped of the captaincy at this stage, wouldn't it?" Wes mused.

Arrcorn, ignorant as he was, had always been careful when it came to quidditch. The captaincy meant a lot to him, and it was common knowledge that he was hoping to get drafted by a minor league quidditch team after he left Hogwarts.

"Hummel," he said after a moment. "the team doesn't want-"

Santana stopped filing her nails. "You know, Hummel, I'm just thinking that I've become pretty bored with quidditch recently. And I was talking to Quinn earlier, and she was feeling the same -"

"Lopez," Arrcorn growled, "stay out of this."

"I'm just saying, quidditch is so tiring. I'm not sure I'd feel up for it if the team had to go through the effort of training a new seeker." She shrugged.

Arrcorn looked apoplectic - he didn't have the time to train a new Seeker, let alone an additional beater. He studied the line they had formed, Kurt and Blaine flanked by Santana on one side, and by half the Gryffindor quidditch team on the other.

"We have practice at 8am tomorrow," he eventually spat in Kurt's direction. "Don't be late."

Kurt considered him for a moment. "I'm meeting Blaine to study at noon, so I hope that practice won't run long. I can't have quidditch interfering with more important things."

Arrcorn's eye twitched a little. "We'll practice as long as we need to."

"I'm meeting Britt for lunch at eleven thirty," Santana informed them. "We gots to get our breadsticks on."

"Too easy," Kurt muttered. "Where's 'Cedes when you need her?"

Arrcorn looked over at the Slytherin table, then back to them. "Don't be late," he repeated stiffly, ignoring Blaine entirely.

"Nice talking to you too," Kurt replied in a detached tone as the group disbanded.

"Well, that was fun," Santana pronounced breezily. "I gotta go find Mercedes and fill her in."

"That's code for make out with Brittany in the dungeons," Kurt whispered to Blaine.

Wes cleared his throat and didn't quite meet Kurt's eyes. "You should… you should let me know if you have any problems with him, or anything."

"We got this, Gryff-raff," Santana said in what was probably supposed to be a comforting tone. "We look after our own." She flicked her fingers in Kurt's direction and disappeared out of the hall.

"So do we," David said quietly, and Blaine had never loved his friends more than in that moment. "Why don't you two get out of here, so that everyone can get back to their breakfast?"

He glanced across the hall, which had been preoccupied with the unfolding drama. There were a lot of people looking at them, and Finn was over at the Hufflepuff table being forcibly restrained by Mike, who gave Kurt a thumbs up.

"You're right," Kurt said, looking David and Wes in the eye. "Thank you both. I appreciate it. I know you don't trust me, so it means a lot that - thank you."

Blaine smiled. "Yeah, thanks."

"I suspect this isn't over," Wes warned.

"I know it isn't." Blaine pulled on Kurt's hand again. "Want to get out of here before the rush?"

"Class starts soon," Kurt informed him, adjusting his shoulder bag with his free hand.

"Not for a few minutes."

David pulled Wes back over to the Gryffindor table as Kurt let Blaine tug him towards the doors. All eyes were on them until they made their way to the deserted entrance hall.

"You didn't have to do that," Blaine said, walking through the shadow of the staircase.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I just wanted to, did you think of that."

"Everyone knows now."

"You were never very good at subtle," Kurt conceded.

"Are you okay with this?"

Kurt stopped walking. "Yes, I am. Are you?"

"You're gonna get a hard time from some of -"

"I'm not worried," Kurt shrugged. "We're worth it."

The casual way he said it, as though it was obvious, was so much all at once. His injured arm was resting on the strap of his bag, his eyes meeting Blaine's honestly, and Blaine knew that it wasn't going to be easy. It was going to suck sometimes, because they were in different houses, on different teams, and both really, really good, stubborn teenagers. And there would always be people who thought that them loving each other was wrong for whatever reason.

But the thing was, when Kurt looked at him like that, he found it difficult to believe that anything could ever be enough to tear them apart.

"I love you."

Kurt smirked. "You said." He snorted when Blaine pursed his lips. "I love you too."

Blaine leaned in to kiss him, but Kurt stopped him. "Wait."

He pulled them out of the shadow and into the light that reflected off of the marble floor. "Here."

"We aren't a secret anymore," Blaine realized. "I can kiss you now."

"That's the idea."

It was a quick kiss, but that didn't make it any less special. When they pulled apart people were started to leave the great hall, on their way to class.

"Are we still on for tonight?" Blaine asked.

"We had plans tonight?"

"I want to see you."

"You're seeing me right now."

"You know what I mean."

Kurt smirked again as he backed away to head to the dungeons. "Eight."

"Where?"

"Where do you think?" he asked incredulously.

Blaine's eyebrows furrowed. "But everyone knows. We can -"

"And we will," Kurt interrupted. "We will display our fabulousness to the world… starting tomorrow." He shrugged nonchalantly. "But I thought it might be nice if we had some alone time tonight…"

Blaine was rapidly becoming enamored with this idea.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Okay. How about seven?"

"Don't be late," Kurt smiled mischievously as he turned to go, raising his fingers in a brief, subconscious goodbye. "Hey, Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't wait for tonight."

Blaine watched his boyfriend saunter off before dedicating himself to finding the make-up work he needed to turn in to Professor Banks. He was halfway down the corridor, ignoring stares and planning his outfit for that night when he realized that he could not stop smiling.

It felt like magic.


End file.
